Fight? Holiday? Low Staffing? Lockdown!
Lockdowns don’t keep the peace in prison, but they seem to be the only mode of operation
By Rob Barton
We just came off a three-week lockdown because several people were seriously injured (one almost lost his eye and another had to be medivacked to the outside hospital and is still on life support) when a huge melee broke out over who got to use the unit’s few phones.
That may sound crazy to you. But understand this: There are only six phones and four computer stations for 120 people, and we only have two hours a day to call or send emails to our children, girlfriends and parents. Normally, we manage the situation ourselves, maintaining a list of 20 people per phone, in order. Each day, we start with whomever was next on the list when the time ran out the day before. But this time, one of the phones was broken, so the guy who was next up tried to get in on another line. The next thing we knew, there was a riot. (Nothing is one-on-one here; when one guy gets in a fight, his group joins him.)
Now, this was preventable. The prison staff was aware of the phone problem (this is the umpteenth time a fight like this has erupted since COVID restrictions were imposed). And prevention works a lot better than interference during the heat of a fight. What do you think would have been the prudent thing for the administration to do? Maybe….fix the broken phone? Add another phone? Extend the allotted call time? Let fewer people out a time? Allow us to participate in other activities, like go to the library, enroll in a program, get some fresh air outside? (Even the TVs have mysteriously been off for the last month.) NOPE!! They did none of the above.
Instead, they let all 120 guys descend on the phones and computers at the same time, knowing God damn well we’d be frustrated and anxious to talk to our loved ones after being denied the ability to do so throughout the entire Christmas holidays due to another lockdown.
It’s the culture
Now, why would they do something like that, you ask? It boils down to the culture of the federal Bureau of Prisons. From the time cadets first sign up to become COs (commanding officers), it’s drilled into them not to fraternize with us, since we are conniving, manipulative, dangerous and untrustworthy. (I’ve literally been told this.) It is drilled into them that we are the worst of the worst, the scum of the earth — the enemy! This indoctrination inevitably means they don’t give a damn about us. Yet they’re supposed to be the stewards of our wellbeing and rehabilitation.
Because the officers are trained not to care about us, the whole system has become an elaborate network of warehouses, with punishment the only mechanism for managing the residents.
A warden once told us during orientation that, “I know there isn’t much for you guys to do around here. Just don’t put your hands on my officers.” This told me that he knew, as the old adage goes, that “an idle mind is the devil’s playground.” It also told me that he didn’t give 2 cents about our safety, and definitely not our rehabilitation. If he did, he would make sure we had constructive activities to occupy our time.
In prison, COVID is just another excuse for lockdowns
Outside prison, local governments have found a way to return life to somewhat-normal despite COVID, because they know, for example, that school is essential to mental health. But here, NOTHING is going on. There is no education (except for packets of worksheets), no library, no religious services, even very little outside recreation. So, what happens? Arguments, stabbings and other tensions over mundane things like the phone, email or TV, which wouldn’t be a problem if they gave us something to do and we weren’t packed on top of one another all day every day. When the inevitable fights break out, what’s the response? Lockdown! And the cycle continues.
Because we’re viewed as adversaries who must be crushed into submission/compliance, the administration’s answer to every problem is punishment. But lockdowns aren’t just used for punishment; they’ve become an easy way to operate the institution. Derek Roberts, a More Than Our Crimes network member in West Virginia, writes: “When staff members fail to show up for work on time, the institution is placed on lockdown. When COVID vaccinations are administered, we go on lock down. When metal detectors and surveillance cameras are serviced, we go on lock down. When the Special Housing Unit (the ‘hole’) is full, we go on lockdown. When they want to have an ‘appreciation day’ for the officers? You got it, lock down. Oh, and when the regional office team visits for an inspection, of course we go on lock down.”
COVID-19 is just the newest reason to lock us down. The administration uses the mildest outbreak — or even increasing numbers in the outside world that haven’t made it inside yet — as an excuse to lock us down. Why? Lockdowns make prison employees’ lives easier. Observes Derek: “When we’re on lockdown, the COs spend most of their eight-hour shift sitting around, occupying themselves by surfing the internet, having lengthy personal conversations on the phone, etc. Meanwhile, they stop providing most services and programs, passing out cold meals long after the food-service workers deliver the trays to the units. The only other thing unit officers do during lockdowns is pass out mail on weekdays. That takes approximately 45 minutes, then they attend to their own affairs!”
What’s the end goal?
On average, federal penitentiaries are locked down about four to six months a year, and it’s been this way for about the past five years. What they fail to understand or care about (I think it’s the latter), is that lockdowns make the tensions that lead to fights and other violence worse.
Meanwhile, I see guys taking three years to finish a 12-month educational program because the lockdowns stop them from participating. I have also seen people unable to take their GED tests because of lockdowns. If we’re serious about helping returning citizens successfully reenter society and not recidivate, we need to change the way we incarcerate in this country from a punitive/warehousing orientation toward a more holistic/helpful approach, where people are given reliable access to services and programs that actually help with their rehabilitation and prepare them for a productive life outside.
But constructive activities and other programming shouldn’t be limited to people who will be released in the near future. Even people in for life without chance of parole need to find meaning in life; hopelessness feeds tension and violence.
What can change this pervasive, punishment orientation within the federal Bureau of Prisons? It will take more than a different person at the top, since each prison currently operates as its own fiefdom. However, it’s a start. The person who replaces Michael Carvajal as the director of the BOP shouldn’t be someone who worked his or her way up the ranks of commanding officers, absorbing the existing, poisoned culture. They should come from a different mold — like, public health or psychology. We need someone with a rehabilitation orientation — not simply “knock-their-heads” law enforcement.
